


Like Ink Through Water

by gohoubi



Series: The Stories of Daenerys and Sansa [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Both of them need a hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and a teeny bit of angst but not really, My First Work in This Fandom, Pillow Talk, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Sharing a Bed, so does jorah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-22 14:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16600097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gohoubi/pseuds/gohoubi
Summary: Daenerys arrives at Winterfell to a warm welcome, from none other than Lady Stark. Daenerys finds comfort in the enigmatic Sansa.





	1. A Warm Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic ever, so I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Daensa is my favourite forgotten pairing from GOT so it's kinda fitting that my first fic would be about them!
> 
> Kudos and comments welcome :D

Of all the people in Winterfell, the older Stark girl stands out to her the most.

Maybe it is her hair, red as Dothraki flame. Maybe it is the sadness behind her eyes, which even her most welcoming smiles cannot hide. 

At the welcome feast, Daenerys is not able to take her eyes from Lady Stark, at the far end of the table. Jorah has the restraint to not mention anything about it. Daenerys is grateful. 

Later that night, Daenerys is visited by the Stark girl in her guest chambers, with a pile of warm winter clothes.

“I appreciate the thought…but I already have clothes like this,” Daenerys says, shyly. How she wishes that she could speak freely, with no caution or censure. 

Lady Stark’s face falls, and she takes her clothes back. “It was silly of me. A Queen wouldn’t want for clothes.”

Daenerys shivers a little. Even though she has more layers on than she ever wears, she still feels cold. She is used to warmth and sun, green grass and the vibrant colours of nature. Not the cold, barren North, with miles of grey rock and barren, denuded forests. But she is a Queen, and queens must be able to adjust. 

Lady Stark turns to leave.

“Wait,” Daenerys calls after her, without thinking.

“Yes, your Grace?” 

“Can you stay here? Just for a while?” Daenerys sits on the edge of her bed. “I’ve been lonely these past few weeks.” Daenerys has felt disconnected from her entourage recently. Apparently even Queens experience this problem. Even her dragons, her children, have been querulous and irritable. The loneliness suffocates her like snow over the North, spreading through her body like ink through water. 

The lone candle in the room didn’t lend itself well to providing visibility, but the flush on Lady Stark’s face is unmistakeable. Neither is her smile, which lights up the room more than the candle ever could.

Daenerys mirrors that smile herself. For once in a long time, she feels content, and hopeful for what this night might hold. 

Sometimes, even Queens need companionship.


	2. A Gift of Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Stark and Daenerys share a bed...and details about themselves. Fluffy and a bit of emotional hurt/comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S I'm going by the assumption that Rickon is dead in this fic. :|

Daenerys leans against the wall her bed is pressed up against. The heat from the water coursing through the walls of Winterfell warms her somewhat, but it’s not perfect.

“I hope your journey here was pleasant, your Grace. I hope Winterfell is…to your liking.” Lady Stark shifts to sit next to Daenerys. 

Daenerys does _not_ like it here. But if she is to go on to the Wall in a few days, she must get used to it. She is a Queen. She will not let the North get the better of her. Not after everything she has been through.

“It is fine. Thank you.” Daenerys tries to smile, but she knows it doesn’t reach her eyes. If Lady Stark notices this, she does not say so. 

“I know Winterfell is cold, and austere. I can tell that it’s not a place you or your…council take pleasure visiting. The North may be my home, but I don’t always enjoy living here myself.” Lady Stark sighs. “But I promise to make this stay easier for you and your council…however I can. Whatever is in my power, I will give to you.”

“Your offer is very generous, and you are truly a good host for making it. But there is only one thing I need.”

A pause. Should a Queen be making this kind of request?

“You.”

***

“What is it like? Being a queen? Commanding armies? Conquering cities?” Lady Stark asks.

“It’s exhilarating and tiring all at the same time. But aren’t you Queen in the North? I am sure you have experienced these things too.”

“I am a Queen only in name, your Grace. I only command the North, and little enough happens here as it is.”

Daenerys thinks over this for a while, then agrees silently. 

“I was powerless for most of my life. Living all over Essos, with Viserys. Shuffling between homes. Evading assassins. Being sold to a khal.”

Daenerys sighs, the weight of all her sadness pressing down. The grey walls blur and grow in on her.

“I have felt the same way, your Grace. Being married to Joffrey. When Father, Mother, Bran, Robb, Rickon…Harrenhal. Ramsey.” Lady Stark shudders hard at that last name. Daenerys touches her hand gently. Warmth radiates up her arm, not entirely unpleasantly.

“It’s all behind us now.” Daenerys tries to smile encouragingly. “We’re Queens now. And we have power that we never had in our youth.”

“Yes. We do.” Lady Stark relaxes a little. Daenerys does the same. She did not realise how tense she has been. 

“Your Grace. What was your husband like?” 

_Which one?_ thinks Daenerys ruefully, but she does not let this show on her face. She knows Lady Stark is talking about Drogo. Her sun-and-stars. 

“He was my sun-and-stars. I was the moon of his life. I thought he was just like every other Dothraki khal. Rough. Savage. Brutal. Cruel. But he wasn’t.”

Daenerys feels her eyes misting over. She has never talked about Drogo with anyone in this way, not even with Jorah.

“Once I learned to speak Dothraki, I was proved wrong. Drogo was not who I expected him to be. I loved him with all my heart…and now he’s gone.”

“I am sorry, your Grace.”

“Do not be sorry. It was many years ago. I don’t feel as saddened by it anymore.”

Suddenly, Daenerys is very tired. The warmth of the blankets, the fire crackling in the grate, the snow falling silently outside.

Daenerys lies down properly, enjoying the blankets. 

“Goodnight, your Grace. Sleep well.” Lady Stark turns to leave.

Daenerys reaches out for her. “Stay a while. Until I fall asleep.”

“As you wish, your Grace.”


	3. A Nightly Visitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Jorah's POV. The Queen's most loyal protecter visits to make sure she's safe...and finds out some things!

The Queen may be a woman grown, with armies and dragons and her own small council. But Ser Jorah cannot stop himself from checking in on her every night. He has already lost her once. He could not abide losing her again.

The Unsullied guarding the hallway to her chambers let him through without question. They stand to attention, never wavering in their duty. Jorah takes care that his shoes do not click against the stones. Her Grace doesn’t know about his nighttime visitations - and she never will.

Jorah opens the door to her Grace’s bedchambers, making sure it does not creak. He looks to the four-poster bed, but the curtains are closed. Jorah draws closer, and twitches aside the curtain.

The Queen is snuggled in wolfskin and knitted blankets, her fingers entwined in the Lady Stark’s hair. A shadow of a smile is still upon her lips.

She looks content. She looks happy.

Jorah smiles a little too. If his Queen is happy, so is he.

After replenishing the fire, he leaves the room, satisfied that his Queen will be safe for another night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, kudos, comments and subscriptions welcome! <3


	4. A Reveal of Vulnerability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys has a nightmare...with comfort from Sansa!

Sansa jerks awake, in an unfamiliar bed. 

Sansa does not know exactly how she came to be in the bed of the khaleesi, with her hair entangled in the Queen’s fingers. She remembers them talking late into the night, and being asked to stay.

_Stay a while. Until I fall asleep._

_As you wish, your Grace._

Why in the name of the gods had she accepted? It was dangerous to refuse a Queen, Sansa knew, but just as much to be found in bed with one.

Sansa wishes she could leave without the Queen knowing, steal away like a ghost in the stories and never come back. But she is not a ghost, and she has never been good at sneakiness. So she will stay. 

The fire is still going just as strong as it was when Sansa came in here. She twitches aside the curtain and looks out the window; the moon has traveled halfway across the sky. Some time has passed.

Sansa closes the curtain and tries to get back to sleep. But try as she might, Sansa cannot rest. Thoughts are swirling through her mind, and she can’t relax with the Queen’s hands all over her hair. She gently extricates her hands, but it doesn’t help much.

The Queen is mumbling in her sleep. “No,” she says sluggishly. “Please no.”

 _Who is she talking to?_ Sansa thinks. Her dead dragon? Her husband long dead? Sansa herself?

“No. No, please, don’t leave me.”

“Your Grace?” Sansa asks tentatively. “Are you alright?”

The Queen does not answer, but keeps repeating her insistences.

Sansa has had many bad dreams like this before, but she never had anyone to be there for her. Maybe she could do that for the Queen.

Before she is able to do anything, the Queen snaps awake with a scream, and nearly falls out of the bed. Sansa is glad that her hair is free from the Queen’s clutches, or she would have fallen off the bed as well.

Sansa leans over the thrashing Queen. “Your Grace,” she calls, “your Grace!”

The Queen doesn’t even seem to hear her, too immersed in her nightmare.

Sansa shakes her a little. “Daenerys, it’s just a nightmare. It’s alright.”

The Queen stops writhing around and looks up at her. Tears from her round indigo eyes spill freely, seeping into her hair and and dripping onto the pillows. 

“Sansa?” she asks tremulously. “You stayed?” 

“Yes, I did. Your Grace, you were just having a bad dream. Everything’s alright. You’re safe.”

Daenerys throws herself into Sansa’s arms, and Sansa couldn’t be any more surprised than if her long dead brothers materialised in her room. She awkwardly tries to hold the crying Daenerys as comfortingly as she can, but it has been a long while since she held someone in this way.

“It’s not alright, Sansa,” Daenerys sobs, “I’ve lost everyone I’ve cared about. Viserys, Drogo, Irri, Doreah. Jhiqui. Daario. Viserion.”

“But you got Jorah back,” Sansa whispers ineffectually. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“He won’t even talk to me in the same way that he used to.” Daenerys sobs harder. “I should never have sent him away.”

“You did what you had to do, your Grace.”

“And what has that given me? I may be a Queen, but it’s not worth everything I’ve lost, everything I’ve done.” 

Sansa has nothing to say to this, so she just holds Daenerys closer while she breaks down. While Sansa strokes her back, she wonders: why is nobody coming? The walls of Winterfell are thick and muffling, but surely the guards would have heard Daenerys scream earlier. 

_Does this happen regularly?_ Sansa thinks, uneasily. If Sansa were to scream like Daenerys just did in the middle of the night, all her guards would come running, not to mention Jon and Arya. But there are no footsteps coming down the hallway.

“I wanted the Iron Throne. I wanted power.” Daenerys swallows, then goes on, “But I saw them. I saw Viserion burn away part of the wall. They’re coming.” She shakes violently, struggling to get the words out between her sobs. “We’re doomed.”

Sansa manages to regain some of her composure. “Daenerys. It’s nighttime.” She tries to recall what her lady mother said to her when she had nightmares. “Let’s go back to sleep. Everything will look better in the morning.”

Daenerys seems to calm down a little. “I’m sorry. I’m normally alone when this happens.”

“Don’t apologise. You are always safe in the walls of Winterfell. I give you my word,” she adds as an an afterthought.

Daenerys looks truly grateful and also surprised, like she has never heard such a proclamation before. “Thank you, Sansa Stark.”

It occurs to Sansa vaguely that she might have never felt safe anywhere, despite being a Queen. Love spreads throughout her like ink through water. She has never felt this kind of love for anyone, not even Jon or Arya.

“Let’s go to sleep.”

“As long as you hold me.”

That is where the sun finds them in the morning, the grey light of dawn playing over their interlocked fingers. They are one - now and forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fully onboard this emotional hurt/comfort train now! This is from Sansa's POV.


	5. Everything Good Has an End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after...and Daenerys' exodus.
> 
> This is the last chapter of Like Ink Through Water. Hope you guys enjoyed it!

Grey light is filtering through the window, to play across Lady Stark’s face. When the light hits them just right, her blue eyes shine just like the sea at Dorne. _Beautiful._

No words need to be said. Their love is word enough.

***

The snow is falling lightly around them, blanketing everything in a soft white mist. Sansa’s hair is a pocket of flame in the drabness of the North.

“Thank you for hosting us here. We will be forever in your debt.” Daenerys says it mostly to Sansa, to make up for everything she cannot say.

“Our doors are always open to the Queen.” Sansa smiles demurely. Her Lady demeanour is already coming back. Once Daenerys is gone, she knows, Sansa will retreat back inside herself, until next time. “We hope that your stay was pleasant.”

“It was…exquisite.” Daenerys risks a quick smile to Sansa. 

Ser Jorah helps Daenerys up onto her horse, and mounts his own. As they ride away into the snow and rock, Daenerys feels the warmth of Winterfell leaching away. The warmth of Sansa.

Jorah breaks her out of her reverie. “I’m glad we’re out of that cold, dank place. I’d much rather be on the move.”

Daenerys smiles. “I think I’ll miss it. It felt like home.”

Jorah shrugs. “Are you ready for the Wall?”

She sets her shoulders. “I’m a Queen. I’m the Mother of Dragons. The Wall is no match for me.”

Daenerys looks back at Winterfell. There was a crowd around the gates when she left, but now there is only one person, the blur of orange, like Dothraki fire. She stays watching, until she crests over a hill, and Winterfell disappears from view. 

_Until next time._


End file.
